Hearts and Heads
by comeonbabyplaymesomething
Summary: Post Finale. Oneshot extended.  He saves her. Again.
1. Hearts and Heads

**I just cannot stop thinking of these things. **

**Disclaimer: Own nothing.**

Hearts and Heads

The glass crunches under her sandals as she pulls herself from the wreckage of what used to be her car. She has to be careful in the dark to avoid slicing open her feet. Something is dripping down her right arm already and she's not sure how much more blood she can deal with right now. At this point she's seen enough for a life time.

The deer she'd swerved to avoid is long gone and her car is smoking and wrapped around a tree. She wants to scream, to collapse onto the asphalt and release a flood of frustrated tears. But she can't, doesn't feel a thing even as she uses the light from her cellphone to identify the slickness of her right arm as a symptom of a large gash just under her shoulder.

She's sure the doctors would call it shock. An aftereffect of her very recent trauma. But she's not sure anymore, because she's been living from trauma to trauma for a very long time. And the numbness is a new, although not unwelcome, feeling.

She clicks his number without thinking. It's late and she doesn't want to bother anyone else. But it's also because she knows he will handle it. That he, above everyone else in her life, will be able to deal with her most recent drama without asking questions or passing judgments.

The call goes to voicemail. And she's just about to relent and phone Bonnie when his picture pops up as an incoming number. His voice is low and soft when he answers, "Yes?"

"I'm having a problem," she replies, voice calm despite her trembling hands. She doesn't know if it's from her collision, the dropping temperature of the formerly balmy summer night, or being all alone on a forest road in the dark. She's been more fragile recently, bravery fleeing around the same time as her boyfriend. She's become a blank slate, a bare emotionless face with a fire raging somewhere deep inside. Damon's started referring to her as a ticking time bomb.

"And I'm supposed to what," he questions, and she can hear the amusement in his voice, practically picture the smile playing across his lips. She forces the image out of her head, focusing on the positive aspects of Damon's body parts has been a big problem of hers lately. It makes it difficult to remember his flaws. She only barely catches his voice as he finishes, "come running?"

She channels his patronizing tone, because they are both equally aware he's already on his way. "If you could," she retorts with a sigh. Taking a seat on the still sun warmed asphalt and waiting. Already feeling infinitely more secure.

It doesn't take long. Before a minute has passed she hears his voice again, this time coming from behind her, "You know we've discussed this before. You need to stop assuming I'll do things just because it's you that's asking."

"Why would I," she asks without turning around, "when you prove me right every time?"

"Are you bleeding," he inquires, his voice serious now. And with a puff of air that ruffles her hair he is in front of her, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Obviously," she answers, fighting the urge to flinch as his cold fingers lift her arm to examine the injury.

"What about the rest of you," he continues, ignoring her snarky retort as he's still completely focused on her bleeding wound. He pulls off his coat, rips a sleeve and wraps it tight around her arm. They both try to ignore her small gasp of pain.

"That's the worst of it, physically," she responds after a deep breath, eyes flicking to the remains of her car.

For the first time he glances to vehicle, taking his eyes off her battered body. He lets out a low whistle, asking sarcastically, "Was the text you were reading really that important?"

He gets a forced smile and an ineffectual slap on the arm for that as she replies indignantly, "There was a _deer_."

His response is equally dramatic as he raises his eyebrows and questions, "_So_?"

She rolls her eyes and sighs, hands fluttering up to massage her temples, "I didn't want to kill it Damon." There is a moment where they stare at each other, each understanding the double meaning of her words. She holds herself responsible for a lot of death.

But he still scoffs, "And killing yourself was the better alternative?" But he stops after that because she's tired and he can tell. She's too weak to put up the effort required for a fight right now. She's scaring him but now is not the time to deal with at.

After another moment of mental frustration he relents, "Did you report the accident?"

"I thought we weren't friends with the Sherriff's Department anymore," her eyes are dark and heavy as she blinks up at him challengingly. A police officer did recently murder her brother after all. In her mind the fact that he'd lived didn't change a thing.

"Elena, Liz Forbes wants to _kill_ me, but that's because I'm a vampire," he reasons to her, trying not to get too agitated. Control is one of the things she's good at helping him maintain. Just her presence is usually enough to calm him. Although currently she is the object of his distress. This is not the Elena he knows. Dejected and indifferent, staring blankly as she bleeds and her worries. He is _not_ used to being the responsible one. He rolls his eyes as he adds, "She's not going to shoot you for crashing your car." He only realizes the irony of the statement when she raises a single eyebrow. He doesn't remember leaving Jeremy Gilbert for dead; only knows now that is one of the countless crimes she will have to forgive him for.

"Sorry," she shrugs, "It's hard to keep track of who I'm trusting on a weekly basis." He opens his mouth to return fire but in that exact second her eyelids flutter and she stumbles back a step.

"Not our biggest problem apparently," he reasons as he steps forward at rapid speed and lifts her into his arms without asking.

"What are you doing," she asks and he wants to kill himself for night noticing the slight slur of her words sooner. As she looks up at him she realizes she should be scared, but that doesn't seem justified anymore. He's saved her one too many times to really provoke any sort of fear anymore. There's wariness for sure, because his devotion seems to know no bounds. He'd hurt her if it meant keeping her safe. Has done it before. But that's not what she needs tonight. So she lets her heavy head lull against his neck. Willing to let him take the driver's seat if only for a few minutes. She knows she can trust him with that.

"You have a concussion," he answers into her hair, "I'm taking you to the hospital. We can figure the rest of this fucking mess out later." And then he runs.

* * *

><p>He's a bit too demanding at the ER. And finally she seizes his hand tightly and forces him to sit next to her hospital bed. Anything to get him to stop accosting the nurses.<p>

"It's just a tiny little head injury," she reasons, body curved towards him as he sits completely rigid in a plastic chair, leg tapping with nervous energy, "the doctor said they'll be releasing me within the hour."

He looks at her skeptically, "Let's not put too much faith in that incompetent idiot. There has to be a reason he's working at a rural hospital in the middle of _nowhere._"

"Because of our small town charm of course," she smirks. And it's the first genuine grin he's seen from her in weeks. "Quit worrying," she commands, as if saying the words could make him forget how delicate she is. And how often they are both in the position of watching her fight for her life.

He reaches forward and brushes a piece of hair out of her face, "You have to stop this Elena."

She doesn't answer, because she doesn't even know if she understands what she's doing. So eventually he continues, "I understand you're brave. But I'm _not_. So if you could cease with trying to get yourself killed I would deeply appreciate it."

She sighs and squeezes his fingers, which are still laced with her own, "Thanks for taking care of me."

She's trying to distract him. And it works. Because the realization takes him completely off guard. He'd never thought himself capable of being responsible and reasonable enough to look out for her. That was Stefan's job. But Stefan's gone, and Damon is acutely aware that he is all she is left. The one person who knows the world she lives in and all she's been through.

She is lost and it's his job to find her. He understands indifference, how forgetting your feelings is always so much easier than facing them. And he will help her understand too. There is undeniable darkness in her now, anguish bleeding into her inflexible hope. But she can be saved, and for once he can be the hero. Because for her he would be anything.

He smiles back at her, "No problem."

Jeremy and Alaric arrive a few minutes later. And it's only after they both look at her questioningly that she realizes she is still holding his hand.

**Thanks in advance for reviewing. Do it please.**


	2. Arms and Legs

**Fine, you guys cajoled me. I'll make it a short little story. A few more chapters to come. Just remember you asked for it. **

**Arms and Legs**

She takes up running. He has no idea why. Only that she sprints through the forest until her limbs quake and blisters the size of quarters form on her heels. She loses ten pounds she can't afford to and starts showing up at his house in the middle of the night to steal his books.

It's all very random and she refuses to speak a word of explanation. When he catches her or questions her she smiles at him in a flustered way and makes a sarcastic comment. She's all about deflection these days. And as the former master he can't seem to keep up. He's only loved one other woman in his entire existence, and unfeeling wasn't her specialty. Katherine was coldhearted, but passionate. Elena is kind, but currently hollow.

She's reading Dostoyevsky at four in the morning to avoid listening to her brother talk to people she can't see or glancing at her aunt's empty bed. Racing up hills until she can't breathe so she can focus on her pain instead of everyone else's. And he has no idea what to do; only that he _has_ to do something.

And he does. He goes with her to a party. Some vapid midsummer bash thrown by a guy named Lance or Link or something. It was Caroline that forced her into a sundress and fixed her hair into something other than a vaguely sweaty pony tail. And when they both show up at his house, blonde smiling brightly, brunette looking dubious he can't really refuse her anything. Not when she's got her arms wrapped tightly around herself and eyes that are practically screaming.

So he follows her to the car, trying not to laugh or attack when he sees Tyler Lockwood slouching in the passenger seat. Elena shoots him a look, a "this is hard enough" look. And he slides into the back without saying a word. But when Caroline shifts the car into gear and backs out of his driveway all bets are off.

"So Caroline, how are things with Mutt," his voice is velvet and his smile is wide as he sees the girl's knuckles turn white on the wheel. Elena rolls her eyes but she lets him have it, because he is a couple hundred years old and attending a high school party as her friend/chaperone. There's only so much she can ask.

"We broke up," Caroline whispers tightly as Tyler sinks lower in the seat.

"Oh no," Damon laughs brightly, edge almost invisible, "I wasn't talking about our resident busboy. I was referring to our new, poor judge of character werewolf. How are things going with him?"

"Things are going _fine_," Caroline hisses, shooting him a harassed look over her shoulder and then a pointedly sympathetic one at Tyler.

"That's nice," Elena mumbles into the palm of her hand, eyes trained out the window but mind a million miles away.

"It is," Tyler agrees sullenly, and Caroline beams.

"Just remember to avoid the teeth Care," he advises solemnly, "speaking as someone who's been there, his bite is _way_ worse than his bark." Her hand clamps on his knee then, and he's sure it would hurt if he weren't dead and impervious.

"We both want to apologize for that, obviously," Caroline murmurs, although the look in her eyes says otherwise. Right now she'd like to strangle him with her powerful, newborn fingers.

"Great, thanks," he deadpans, pulling Elena's digits off one by one and placing her hand back in her lap with a wagging finger, "Although completely unaccepted."

"Oh look we're here," Elena remarks suddenly, pulling him out the door before the car has even come to a complete stop.

"Thank God," Caroline and Tyler state almost completely in sync as they watch the two take off towards the glowing, overpopulated house. And as the blonde searches for a spot on the street, the brooding boy next to her reaches across the shifter and squeezes her cold hand with his blazingly hot one. And she tries to remember the surprisingly valid advice about the teeth, but just can't.

Damon doesn't like the way people look at her. Never has. At her mile long legs, flowing hair, or bright white smile. He can _feel _the thoughts rolling off their shoulders. The intentions pounding in their blood. And it drives him crazy but, thankfully, he's had centuries to practice control. And he possesses enough to repress the urge to snap the neck of every guy in the place giving her deceptively confident exterior a once over. Barely.

She's good at faking it. Really just extraordinary. She smiles and laughs like it's nothing. Like she'd never stopped. And he feels like an asshole standing next to her gawking. But he can't help it. Can do nothing but marvel at the observation that she could so easily have just deceived him. Pretended to be fine and pushed him away. That really her empty stares and stony silences are her way of confiding in him. Showing him more then she allows nearly everyone else.

He wants to say something. Anything. Pull her away and yell or whisper or just fucking kiss her until she can't breathe and neither can he. But he also likes normal. The fake it until you feel it strategy sounds better than anything he's come up with, so he lets her stand there and live her lie. Participates because he may prefer it too, even though in their harsh reality she's kissed him and initiated some possibly trauma induced handholding. Anything's worth it to see her smile.

That is until the fatal question. The end to their, mostly her, bid at normal. He doesn't know the girl, only that she glances at him appreciatively and then asks Elena where Stefan is.

He sees the shift immediately. Her body goes stiff, a physical jolt reminding her exactly where and _when_ she is. And all the ghosts flood back to her eyes. He quickly cuts in with the party line; Stefan is staying with relatives' upstate for the summer, as she practically begins to collapse next to him.

He grips her arm for support but she shakes him off, heading for the door with almost inhuman speed. "Don't follow me Damon," she hisses over her shoulder as she crosses the lawn and heads into the dimly lit street.

He hesitates for the briefest fraction of a second, but then remembers all the damage she manages to do to herself when he's not around. Then catches up immediately.

"Yeah right."

**Thanks to QueenBee10, 1shot, FinnFiona, deberry, dazed-rose, D, Aria, elenaanddamon, Justine106, LVB, fallenspringsummer, Adjakkadh, CrimsonKiss-17, and b-mystique. LOVE your reviews. **


	3. Ears and Eyes

**This one was actually a lot of fun to write. Although, I am a little concerned about what that says about me as a person.**

**Ears and Eyes**

She doesn't know what's wrong with her. Why her head and heart are pounding like they're attempting to rip free from her body. She tries to breath, but can't take in enough air. So she keeps moving. Walking and walking but never really getting lost. Mystic Falls is in her blood, she knows every back alley and street corner.

He doesn't know where she's going. Doesn't really think she does either. But he's following her until daybreak, and maybe after that too. She keeps making these horrible noises, like she's about to cry. But he'd be able to tell if she had. And so far her eyes have remained dry. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or worried. She's a bomb, ticking ticking ticking. Detonation might be best, but he's afraid of the fallout.

Finally she stops. Breathless and heavy eyed. And he wants to give her space but he can't help it. It's against his nature to be silent. With one perfect smirk he quips, "How depressingly appropriate." She doesn't turn around but he sees her stiffen. Her shoulder blades tense, and he wants to be sorry. But he's given up a lot of his pride to float in her orbit. And he can only apologize for being himself so often.

"If you're coming inside you have to be quiet," she murmurs as she pushes open the gate. Her silver flats glow in the moonlight as she steps over the threshold and into the cemetery. "No talking," she commands. Its overkill but he needs it.

Once again he hesitates, not sure he can hold out. But then the gate slams behind her ominously and he's quickly following. "Terms accepted," he hisses; although no one's really listening anymore except the dead bodies that now surround him.

She weaves her way through the headstones. Her hair fell out of its twist sometime during their trek, and now hangs loose around her shoulders. Her fingers keep brushing against the stones, tracing the chinks in their layouts. As if she can identify their origin and age by touch.

She's slow, but eventually she reaches her intended destination. Pausing in front of her parent's graves, eyes half lidded in rapture. "Stefan saved me from the car," she confides, eyes never looking away from the names etched into the stone, "pulled me out before I could drown. And it was probably the stupidest decision he's ever made."

"You're wrong," he returns quickly. Eyes on the steady pulse in her neck. She's calm now, and that's the worst part.

"No," she laughs, and it's a horrible, bitter thing, "Think of everyone that it would have been saved if I'd died that day."

"I think I've expressed my opinions on your attempts at self-sacrifice quite clearly," he replies, closing the distance until they're standing side by side.

"I ruined his life," she muses, at the same time reaching sideways to lace her finger with his, never looking anywhere but straight ahead. She is selfish, so selfish. And it's only allowed because he suffered his downfall centuries ago. At the hands of a much different woman. She'll admit to Stefan, but Damon's destruction is squarely on Katherine's shoulders.

"He didn't _have_ a life before you," he remarks coolly. Although he wants to tell her he's speaking for both brothers. That there was nothing before her and that there will be nothing after. That some days he wishes it weren't true, but that it always will be.

She leans her head against his shoulder; face pressed half against his T shirt and the other against cold, bare skin. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up. Keep wishing the last couple of months were a nightmare I'm going to get to do over." He feels the tears dripping down his elbow and closes his eyes in gratitude.

"I'm sorry," he promises against her hair. He's not sure how to properly express how much. And he's trying very hard not to be distracted by how close she is in proximity. Seeing her cry makes him feel utterly helpless. And that is not an emotion he's comfortable with.

"I know," she sobs, turning her whole body towards him in a silent plea. And he obliges after a moment of misunderstanding, wrapping his arms around her as her body quakes with a month of unshed tears.

When she stops, after what feels like a lifetime. His shirt is soaked and her eyes are raw and bright red. She is still the most beautiful thing he's seen; only now she no longer retains the weight of the world. She doesn't look up, but he feels her lips move against the skin of his stomach, "Why are you being so nice to me? Where's my I told you so?"

"Not even I'm that cruel," he promises, his fingers finding their way into her hair despite his best intentions. And he waits, but she doesn't complain.

She balances her chin on his chest and squints up at him, like she's having trouble making him out. Or like she's really seeing him for the first time. "I love you too you know," she whispers, voice hoarse and cracking, "And I _never_ thought I would."

His smile is wide and amused, and if there wasn't still liquid leaking from the corners of her eyes he would laugh. It really is absurd. How utterly incompatible they are. Devil and angel holding onto each other in the middle of a cemetery. She is everything he's not. But as she appraises him with bittersweet brown eyes, they both know how much he wished he deserved her, how much he's tried and how much he's changed.

And she can't help but want to meet him halfway.

Their second first kiss is still flavored with salty tears and laced with anguish. But now there is hope too. And when he pulls away, dazed and confused, she stands on her tiptoes and drags him back. Hands and hair and elbows and fingers, she sees a blazing white light and the possibility of an end to the void.

Her first genuine emotion in months. Love for a Salvatore, the last one she'd ever expected. She knows it's horrible, that it will probably end horrible, and that it will hurt _everyone_. But she can't stop, couldn't even if she wanted to. She's a good girl, has been a good girl for far too long. Never understanding until this precise moment, how _incredible_ being bad can feel.

"This is not a game you want to play," his eyes are wild and raging as he forces her backwards with a grip on her shoulders. Underneath it all he's still a caged animal clinging to humanity. But his grasp has always been stronger then he thinks, and she trusts him, however naive it may sound.

So she smiles, sad but no longer empty, and reaches out with a steady hand. Halfway. She'll keep trying. She refuses to relinquish her new discovery. Maybe together they can both be saved.

Her voice is perfectly even, and her chin juts out with a challenge, "You're gonna have to stop me then."

A dare he'll never answer. He's a game she will always win.

**One more chapter.**

**Thanks to QueenBee10, Wantingpj, LVB, Sarrio, dazed-rose, Perfect Pirate Captain, erika x3, and emilio7.**


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